Essay on doing nothing

John Boston Priestley (1894-1984), British novelist, critic, and dramatist.

Born in Bradford, Yorkshire, into a family of teachers. He served in the army from 1914 to 1919, and later studied at Cambridge, where he excelled in English literature, modern history and political science. He settled in London in 1922 and wrote reviews for magazines such as the Saturday Review. His early works were mainly literary biographies and collections of criticism. Representative works include "George Meredith" (1926) and "Thomas." Peacock" (1927), "British Comedy Characters" (1925), "British Novel" (1927), etc. In 1929, he published the picaresque novel "Good Companion" and in 1930 the realistic novel "Angel Sidewalk". Later, he published books such as "British Travel Notes" (1934), "Midnight in the Desert" (1937), "Rain Falls on the Holy Mountain" (1939), describing personal experiences, criticizing society, and deeply sympathizing with the tragic experiences of the unemployed. He began writing scripts in 1932, criticizing the British middle class. His major scripts include "The Dangerous Corner" (1932), "I've Been Here" (1937), "The Inspector Comes to the Door" (1946), "Home Tomorrow" (1949), and "The Glass Cage". "(1957) etc.

On doing nothing

I once stayed for a while with an artist friend at his farmhouse in Yorkshire. He was a lovable lazy guy. The hilly country is about ten miles away from a train station; we happened to encounter the weather that suddenly became quite warm for several days, so we took the nearest wilderness trail early every morning and climbed leisurely to an altitude of two thousand feet. Lying there on his back, spending the long, golden afternoon—doing nothing. When it comes to finding a place to take a break, there’s no place like the wilderness plateau. It was like a clean and empty open-air hall. That apparently monotonous environment does not provide captivating entertainment on the spot, nor does it provide a captivating and splendid drama to watch. Instead, there are various forms and subtleties slowly transformed by the shadows of floating clouds and the colorful horizon. Unparalleled, enough to make you fascinated and full of interest. The patches of grass on the plateau are as big as living room carpets and are as beautiful and soft as velvet, tempting you to lie down and rest. It is far away from the hustle and bustle of the world, transcending the gains and losses of the world, and lasts forever, allowing people to rest their minds and purify their distracting thoughts. All the noise in the world was lost in the monotonous chirping of the curlews.

We lay comfortably on the plateau grass for days, either looking up at the sky or dreamily gazing at the distant horizon. Of course, it is not true to say that we did nothing, because we smoked a lot of tobacco, ate a lot of sandwiches and small pieces of chocolate, and drank a lot of cold, steaming stream water that came from nowhere. The gurgling flow that came out lasted a few yards and then disappeared. The two of us occasionally exchanged a word or two. but. We may have reached the point where two members of the human race are as close to doing nothing as possible. We were sitting around, making no plans, not even an idea in our heads; we were not even passing the time bragging to one another as two male companions tend to do when they get together. Somewhere in the distance, our relatives and friends are busy and busy, scheming, scheming, arguing, making money, and squandering; but we are like immortals, really doing nothing and having a clear mind. , a blank. However, when we ended that brief moment of idleness, with our faces as red as the sunset, we came down from the plateau and returned to the world of mortals and newspaper owners, only to find that we had just been criticized by Mr. Gordon Selfridge.

I don’t know when or where he accused us. I don't know what kind of jovial group of guys actually earned and gained his trust. Strange things happen in this season when the rare sunshine encourages our eccentricities. Last year or the year before that, an entrepreneurial guy organized a guided tour of the European continent. In order to attract more knowledgeable people to join the vacation, he also arranged a series of lectures by well-known writers at various stops along the way. The happy group of tourists were on their way, and their guide kept his promise, because lo and behold - at the first stop, Reverend Yingji gave them a lecture on modern pleasures. Mr. Selfridge isn't, though.

Whether he was making a grand speech to a group of vacationers, or addressing a serious meeting held by a group of big shopping mall owners, I don't know. Anyway, I do know that he said that he hated laziness most and considered it the number one sin in the world. . I also believe that he criticized some people who wasted time, but I forgot the reasons and examples he gave. To be honest, if I look into it more carefully, I will think that it is a shameful waste of time. Although Mr. Selfridge did not mention us by name, there is no doubt that he had both of us in mind throughout his attack on idleness. Perhaps he had an infuriating image in his mind of the two of us lying flat on a wilderness plateau, conspicuously wasting time while there was so much work to be done and, by the way, to be done. Later it was bought and resold by Selfridge's shop. I really hope. I wish he could see us both, for that must do him great good; we are both a pleasure to be looked at at all times, even when we are doing nothing, and whoever looks at us, even if only to look at us, Seeing images that are incomplete and difficult to understand will also be beneficial to his body and mind. Unfortunately, Mr. Selfridge had probably already made up his mind about his so-called sin of laziness, and was unwilling to accept other people's opinions or even soften his attitude. That's a shame, and what's even worse is that his views don't seem right to me, and are certainly quite harmful.

In this world, all evil is actually caused by those who are always busy. They neither know when to be busy nor what to do. I think the devil is still the busiest guy in the universe, and I can pretty much imagine him denouncing idleness and raging against the wastage of even an iota of time. I bet no one is allowed to be idle in the kingdom he rules, not even for an afternoon. We all freely admit that the world is a mess. But like some people, I think it was not just idleness that got it to this point. What the world lacks is not action, but inaction; it is omnipotent, but lacks kindness and a little reason. There is still a lot of energy in the world (there have never been so many busy people), but most of it is wasted in places where it shouldn't be used. For example, in July 1914, the weather was so lazy that everyone, the emperor, the king, the grand duke, the politicians, the generals, the reporters, all at once wanted to If we do nothing but hang out in the sun and consume tobacco leaves, then our situation may be much better than now. But no, the teaching that life must be tense is still indisputable; no time is allowed to be wasted, you must find something to do.

So, as everyone knows, he really did something great. Besides, if we politicians, instead of rushing to Versailles with a lot of ideas that have not yet been fully considered and a lot of energy that can be expended, we might as well put aside all correspondence, interviews, etc. for the time being, and simply go on vacation. For two weeks, they just wandered on this or that hillside, apparently doing nothing for the first time in their energetic lives, and then they went back to their so-called peace conference, so that would be fine. After the meeting, my reputation was not tarnished and world events were handled well. In fact, right now, if half of the politicians in Europe gave up the idea that laziness is a sin, and took a break from politics, doing nothing, we would definitely benefit a lot. Other examples come to mind. For example, certain religious sects hold meetings from time to time. Although there are mountains of evil outside and the future of human civilization is still uncertain, the representatives attending the meetings condemn the length of women's skirts and the noise of the dancing bands, and waste their time on these small things. time. It would be better for them to find a place to lie down, stare at the sky, and rest their minds.

The idea that laziness is the worst of all evils, coupled with the teaching that life must be tense, is very popular in the United States, and we cannot escape the fact that the United States is an amazingly prosperous country. But we cannot avoid another fact: in such a society, all the most outstanding contemporary writers are all satirists. Oddly enough, most of the great American writers have no hesitation in praising leisure and ease. Their talent is often doing nothing, and they boast about it. This is their way of saving the world.

Therefore, if Thoreau did not have his ability to do nothing but admire the Milky Way, he would only be a cold moralist; and Whitman, if he were deprived of his habit of lounging with his hands in his trouser pockets and such The innocent joy he shows when he is having fun will only make him a big fool. Any idiot will make a fuss and waste his energy everywhere, but if a person wants to settle down and do nothing, he has to have some real ability. He must have energy to draw from, must be able to sink into the slow, flowing rivers of contemplation and whim, must be a poet at heart. Often when other poets disappoint us, we think of Wordsworth, because he knows the secret of doing nothing. You can say that no one does it better than him; you can also find out about it from his works. The best narrative on this. He lived long enough to retract most of the opinions of his youth, but I don't think he ever regretted one of them: that there is nothing more spiritually pleasing than idly gazing at nature. Purification can make people healthier (in one of his poems, he actually expressed his indignation against some gypsies, because he once passed by those people, and passed them again twelve hours later, and found that They haven't done anything. I suspect it's racial prejudice, and a little bit of jealousy, because while he doesn't do much, those people do even less). Had he still lived, he would certainly have preached his creed more fervently and more frequently than ever; he might have attacked Mr. Selfridge with a series of remarkable sonnets (beginning with "Last week they walked on the moors") On the Plateau”) to defend both of us, which, by the way, do not attract attention at all. He would tell us that if everyone spent the next ten years lying on their backs on a wilderness plateau doing nothing whenever they could, the world would be much better off. He was right about that.

Appreciation

The beginning of this article feels like a leisure work written by a literati who has nothing to do. The author and his friends were intoxicated by the pleasant scenery near the farmhouse. "Away from the hustle and bustle, transcending the gains and losses of the world, it lasts forever, allowing people to rest their minds and purify their distracting thoughts." We seem to see the author and his friends in a place far away from the troubles of the world, just like the hermits in ancient China, purely cultivating their temperament there.

However, as the author's seemingly leisurely gaze looks into the distance, the reader's heart begins to soar just like the author's thoughts, so some people who regard "idleness" as the source of sin come out. . Here are relatives and friends "somewhere far away" who are "busy and busy, scheming, scheming, arguing, making money, and squandering", and there are also those who "neither know when to be busy nor are they busy." "People who are always busy" who don't know what to do are the ones who create all the evil in the world. A considerable part of these people were the so-called 'social elites' at a certain time, such as emperors, kings, grand dukes, politicians, generals, journalists in July 1914, and some in 1918 "bringing a lot of Politicians who have not yet considered mature ideas and a lot of expendable energy to rush to Versailles." Here, the author is obviously satirizing the warmongers who dragged the European people into the evil World War I and brought serious disasters to the people, as well as those politicians who later did dirty spoils in the name of "peace" them.

There is also "currently more than half of the politicians in Europe, some religious sects, etc." The author's seemingly random thoughts clearly reveal his distaste for the dark politics engaged in by these so-called social elites. The author imagines in a very ironic tone that if in July 1914, these people "all of a sudden wanted to do nothing but just hang out in the sun and consume tobacco leaves", what would be the result? Is it a blessing or a curse to the people? The conclusion is of course obvious. Judging from the evolution of history, if it were not for those politicians who "hurried to Versailles with a lot of ideas that have not been fully considered and a lot of energy that can be consumed", the Second World War more than ten years later would have been The history of China may have to be rewritten, and the world and its people will certainly benefit a lot from this. Clearly, much of the evil that exists in our society is caused by the busyness of these people.

The author also sets his sights on the United States, which was regarded as the paradise of capitalist democracy at the time. It was an "amazingly prosperous country."

Here, he discovered another fact: "Most of the great American writers have no hesitation in praising leisure and ease. Their talent is often doing nothing, and they boast about it. This is their way to save the world."

After reading the full text, one cannot but admire the author's unique ingenuity. In his unconstrained and free-flowing writing, we can clearly feel the author's strong criticism of real politics and his yearning for a better life. As he put it through the admonition of the imaginary poet Wordsworth: "If during the next ten years everyone, whenever possible, lies on his back on a wilderness plateau with nothing to do, then all the people in the world will The situation will be much better.